No Exception
by HecateA
Summary: For all the difficulty that Andromeda has in understanding her daughter's marriage, really to Dora it's quite simple. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Warnings: **Family discussions regarding partner choice

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**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping War; Animal Verses; Ornate Oscillating Obelisks; Remains of War

**Individual Challenge(s): **Cuppa; Hufflepuff MC; Slytherin MC; Bow Before the Blacks; Seeds; Golden Times; Old Shoes; Trope it Up C (Secret Relationship); Themes and Things A (Family); Themes and Things B (Betrayal); True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; Real Family; Short Jog; Two Cakes!

**Representation(s): **Wizarding world lycanthropy stigma; marriage; family fights

**Bonus challenge(s):** Creature Feature; Second Verse (Odd Feathers); Chorus (Middle Name)

**Tertiary bonus challenge: **Oath; Orator

**Word Count: **1522

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_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Nymphadora Tonks/Remus Lupin (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Summer Medium 1 (Arranged Marriage)

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**No Exception**

Andromeda was decisively not used to the strange, bizarre, and undesirable tension that floated between her daughter and herself.

She had come from a wildly different world than Dora's; one of tight laces and buttons, etiquette and straight-backed postures, tight lips and tighter rules. She had spent her entire youth constricted, and when she'd met Ted and learned to breathe for the first time… well, that had been radical, for her. And when she had continued to meet Ted in clandestine classroom encounters and stolen moments, when she had decided to tie his life down to hers—she had known that she was walking away from that, and that there would be no going back. When she had started to feel her daughter kick and stir inside her, she had known that the baby (Dora, they'd nicknamed her, because they adored her already) would never know it in the first place.

Andromeda had tried to make a warm and free and open world for this daughter of hers. Resultantly, Nymphadora had always told her everything. With a frankness and openness and silliness that had sometimes made her difficult to wrangle and follow, but that Andromeda cherished. Her daughter was hers, just like she was her daughter's. They had each other, and always would.

The silence that hung between them now as they sat down for their weekly cup of coffee together was unfamiliar. Uncanny. Andromeda didn't like it, and it made her feel even more unsure and uncertain. She looked around the coffee shop nervously, even if she'd seen its interior a thousand and one times. It was a small Muggle shop, just down the road from the Ministry of Magic, in a very convenient place for Dora to swing by during her lunch breaks. Dora liked their eclectic collection of mismatched cups, and Andromeda liked the soft jazz that they played. It was their place, but today it felt like uncharted waters.

Dora took a sip of coffee and put her cup back down. She reached up to move a stray lock of blood red hair, and Andromeda's eyes couldn't help but linger on the wedding ring it now bore.

"Okay," Dora said. "I'll do it, I'll break the ice. You're not happy."

Andromeda's jaw dropped.

"Oh, sweetheart…" she said. "That's not… that's not true. I'm happy _for _you."

"That's what you said when Mad-Eye offered me an Auror Apprenticeship," Dora said. "Then, a week later, you burst into tears when I came home with a scraped knee because you thought I was putting myself in unnecessary danger."

Andromeda chewed her lip. "Dora, I am always on your side. I am always proud of you."

"I know," Dora said. "But that doesn't mean you're always happy about it."

She took a deep breath.

"Is it because we eloped?" Dora asked, lowering her voice. "Is it because you wish you'd been there? Because if so, I'm sorry, but we had to do it this way to make sure the marriage wouldn't get blocked by the Ministry's new legislation. We explained…"

"I know," Andromeda said. "I know, you told me, and I'm happy to see the pictures…"

"Then it's Remus, isn't it?" Dora asked. It was phrased like a question, but it didn't sound like one. Dora said it like a statement, and something in her voice sounded sad. This in turn broke Andromeda's heart.

"Oh, sweetheart…" she said. "Sweetheart, he's lovely…"

"I know," Dora said. "That's what you said when you met him. Until you found out about his condition."

Andromeda sighed.

"Dora, he's lovely," Andromeda said. "But that… is that enough?"

"What makes you ask that?" Dora asked.

Andromeda sighed again. "Dora, marriage is difficult…"

"I know," Dora said. "That would be true regardless of who I'd married. Mum, say what it is you're thinking so we can get on with it."

"Dora, he's a werewolf," Andromeda finally said. "That's… I don't even know what to say, Dora. But that's complicated. That's difficult. That's dangerous—not necessarily because of him, because of the world we're in, the times we're in. That's limiting."

Dora didn't look surprised, but her expression hardened. If Andromeda had known her a tiny bit less, she might not have detected the hint of anger in her daughter's posture.

"You…" Dora said, shaking her head. "I knew this wasn't sitting well with you. I knew, because you're my Mum and I love you and I know you. But you are the last person in this world that should be telling me that if love is difficult I should stay away."

The last sentence came out in something like a growl, and Andromeda was shocked by the anger that seethed through.

Dora took a deep breath and reached into her purse, retrieving a slip of parchment that had been folded and unfolded a dozen times. She slid it across the table and crossed her arms over her chest.

Andromeda quietly looked over the letter, in green ink and a cursive she recognized as her own.

_Ted,_

_I am so, so sorry you found out this way. I chose not to tell you about the marriage my parents have aligned because I did not want to hurt you, and needed to take the time to work through it. I wanted to scream the very second they told me. I felt like an animal trapped in a cage, but I cannot simply lash out or claw at my family. Please, believe me. I just needed time to think, to find a way out. _

_I should have been truthful, I see that now, but I did not mean to hurt you. I will fight against this with all my might and more. You have taught me too much kindness, too much about justice, and too much about love for it to be otherwise. _

_Ultimately, I have found no other solution but to disobey. I regret the time it took for me to realize that I cannot keep one foot in each world any longer, and that it is time for me to leave the world I have known, on my family, and on the things they stand for. And I will; regardless of whether you will have me back or not. _

_I will wait for your answer, but know that regardless of what you choose I will always love you, that I am so very sorry, and that I will always owe you so, so much. _

_Sincerely, _

_Andromeda_

Andromeda chewed on her lip as she reread the words she'd written as a teenager. On a letter she'd quietly passed to Abigail Jones in Charms one day, for her to slip to Ted in the Hufflepuff Common Room. She had done it without knowing what would happen next, but sure that her life had been changed and would be forever changed again.

"He took you back," Dora said. "Because he loved you, even if you'd made mistakes and even if it was going to be a world of headaches and trouble."

"Where did you get this?" Andromeda asked.

"I found it in the attic, when I was a kid," Dora shrugged. "I had to write about my family tree for elementary school, probably fourth grade or something, and you told me so little that I went looking."

"You never said anything," Andromeda said.

"I didn't think I had to," Dora said. "I thought it was quite romantic, really. And I thought it meant I came from a family that valued love above easiness. That to me spoke for itself"

"You are," Andromeda said quietly.

"Then please accept that what I have with Remus is no exception," Dora said. "Your family didn't understand how you could possibly fall in love with a Muggleborn. We're circling back to a world that's doing the same, right now. Maybe you just don't understand something about Remus."

"That's different," Andromeda said. "Those are two completely different situations."

"Is it?" Dora asked. "I love him."

And to this, Andromeda had no answer.

Dora folded up the note again, before setting it down on the table between them again.

"I won't have this conversation with you again," Dora said. "You have a choice to make. I will always love you, but I won't put Remus in a position where he's around people who dislike him, and I won't tolerate this. I just won't, Mum."

"Nymphadora," Andromeda said quietly.

Dora shook her head.

"You heard me," Dora said. "I love you. I will always love you. But we don't need more barriers to be thrown up in this world—especially not on behalf of and between good, loving people."

And with that she got up, and kissed the top of Andromeda's head.

"I'll see you next week," she said quietly.

She was on her way out when Andromeda came to her senses.

"Dora," she called. She caught her daughter's attention. "Will… will we see you on Sunday, for dinner?" Andromeda asked tentatively.

"We have a friend's wedding," Dora said. "Maybe Monday?"

"Monday works," Andromeda said. "And please… give Remus my love."

"I will," Dora promised.


End file.
